wipe the slate
by waterlit
Summary: A century later, no one remembers the danger. They think he's going mad. Allen-centric, brief mention of the others.


**Title:** wipe the slate**  
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**Pairing:** No pairings - Allen-centric; brief mention of the others.**  
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**Summary**: A century later, no one remembers the danger. They think he's going mad.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own DGM, quite obviously.

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"In the middle of the journey of our life I found myself within a dark wood where the straight way was lost." – Dante Alighieri, Inferno

:::

Sometimes, Allen Walker thinks about killing himself. He wonders how it would be like to place a knife against his throat, cold blade breaking soft skin, and then to feel the rush of blood out his jugular vein with every faltering beat of his heart. Other times, he thinks about swallowing death, death in a capsule, and going in silence to his long sleep.

No one remembers the past, now. No one remembers the danger. He is the only one left in the mire, his very existence a living hell, one foot in the present and another in the past.

When sleep comes to him, he dreams of red dawns and sorrowful sunsets, of ashes and dust. First, there is darkness, and then the sky blinks into view, fading into a silent night.

Then there is mist, and then there are monsters, rising from the valleys and the moors, their silhouettes dark against the full moon, these strange creatures wrought of steel and iron. He can remember the pain, the agony – the distorted souls calling for help, the searing pain of the Akuma bullets, the grey, crumbling skin of the dying and the ashes that paint the sky a dreary empty-black.

And then he wakes, bathed in the morning light, drenched in sweat, his heartbeat erratic and fast.

These are nightmares, Lenalee tells him. She wants to bring him to a psychiatrist, to discuss these twisted dreams. But Allen always refuses, for these are not nightmares – these are parts of his past, things he experienced ages ago, when they were still – no, he cannot say it.

One day, a century ago, Allen closed his eyes, and woke up the next day, a hundred years older and yet none the wiser.

Two years after he awoke in this strange world, with its fast automobiles and its tall glass buildings, with its cold people and surreal landscape, he still has no idea how he ended up in a strange century, with no Akuma in sight. Where are the monsters hiding now? Where is the blood, the bullets, the death throes of a rotten world?

No one else remembers. Lavi tells him to stop playing too many video games. Kanda says Allen likes to make things up. Both of them ignore his warnings, his dreams.

But can't they remember the blood, the toil? Can't they see the ghosts of the past, closing in with every night? Can't they feel the tentacles of the Earl around them, his very guile? Can't they see the faces, the tears, his fright?

The dreams are more vivid now – they paint his nights red, drawing blood and gnawing away at his memories and his sanity. Soon, one day, the Earl will rise again, and they will be doomed to a land of depravity and sin.

:::

Lenalee looked at the sleeping figure beside her. "You sure about this, Lavi?"

Lavi turned around, the seatbelt cutting into his flesh. "This is the only way, Lena."

The drugged figure in the back seat bounced slightly as Kanda rushed the car over a tall road bump and finally coasted to a rough stop. "Here," Kanda said. "Now get out."

"Get a wheelchair, Lena," Lavi said. "I can't carry him, and Yu won't."

Said Lenalee grabbed the nearest wheelchair; together, the three friends wheeled an unconscious boy into the Noah Hospital situated at the outskirts of town. They were met by a tall doctor with a flirtatious smile and a head of curly, dark hair.

"How can I help you?" the doctor asked.

Lavi glanced at the man's badge. "Ah – Dr Mikk? We're here with our friend… he's a little not right in the head. So we thought we'd bring him to be evaluated."

"You're looking for the psychiatric department," Dr Mikk said. "Take that elevator, and go up to the thirteenth floor. Dr Kamelot will examine him shortly."

The three wheeled the unconscious boy away, and Dr Mikk allowed himself one feral grin before he turned back to his work.

-Fin.-


End file.
